


The Mistwalker

by Eilif



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 06:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilif/pseuds/Eilif
Summary: A young girl loses all she knows and loves, but from the mist a hooded figure appears, granting her an opportunity. In the process she finds a family (somewhat heartless), and more importantly a destiny. But that destiny may only be achieved by great sacrifice. Will her heart endure or will her soul crumble in the process? The story follows a coven of Vampires lead by Movarth and a non-Dragonborn character.





	1. Introduction

A frost cold mist, swarms through the dark irregular tunnels. Colorless and foul, a cavern that seems like a timeless abyss, a place where nightmares are bred.

With a closer glance, the true evil becomes clear: The unmistakable scent of decay, and a profane feeling of claustrophobia, destressing the minds of even the most willful.

A temple of shackles and blood rituals, inhabited by breathless, beatless and nearly souless entities, lurking endlessly these frozen ancient halls. Beings so currupt even life has forsaken them and are driven by their lust for blood and power.

Heavy brumes fill the mysterious swamp region of Hjaalmarch. A land with more tales than those who tell them. Near the seat of power of the area; Morthal resides a terror worse than the superstitious folks who dwell this town could imagine; The nights get longer and the days foggier and soon the mortals shall have no will to tell any more stories.


	2. Coven & Ritual

**Coven and** **Ritual**

Movarth Piquine, formerly a renowned vampire hunter, an individual with a burning ambition and hatred, also of great cunning and power. Now master to a sect of vampires residing in Hjaalmarch.

I do not know much of his past before my encounter with him more than a century and a half ago, but this is what led us to our union:

The cold alley in-between two wooden houses located in the western part of the Snow Quarters (Gray Quarters to some); was where I took shelter, not only from the weather but also the people of the city. This site originally housed some of the lower class Nord workers; now a large portion of it's residents were refugees from Morrowind after "The Red Year" 30 years ago.

My malnourished body from weeks of poor meals and the constant cold, made it difficult for me to rise from the makeshift hay bed. I wondered the city begging to the passing citizens, most to occupied to even look at me some spitting at the floor near me.

Most shunned the child of a criminal, and that's what all thought of me after a tragic incident, that framed my parents to be seen as wicked and foul. You see, my parents (A Nord man and Breton) where nobel souls carring with them the will of Mara, and practicers of the school of restoration; We would travel through Skyrim helping those in need, with no intention of profiting from it.

One day, a courier arrived with a letter for my parents: something of a sick man from Windhelm who in the past my parents helped a close friend of his. My parents decided to go.

When I first saw this ancient city, I was entranced; my mind wondered what mysteries and stories where held in it's wood and stone architecture. Even though it was a cold site, the city itself felt warm and full of life. With men and an occasional mer (first time I saw a Dunmer) walking about.

We arrived to a house towards the east side of town, a building of two stories. No doubt that the man who sent for us was quite wealthy. After knocking; the door was opened by a Dunmer woman by the name of Nephethy (who I assumed was young). After my parents introduced themselves the woman let us in. She led us to a room in the upper level where an elderly Nord man named Rodgvir laid. Although he seemed to be asleep, his eyes where wide open. She then explained, that the man began to suffer from an unknown affliction and would have occasional paralysis. This began almost a month ago; at first he would come out of this state after a few minutes. But it began getting worse, now he was paralyzed in bed, with the help of Nephethy he was able to eat and at times be able to speak. She fears his condition would worsen and she wouldn't be able to feed him at all.

Although one would assume Nephethys to be the elder man's housemaid, she appeared to genuinely care for the Nord; as she spoke of his condition there was a hint of worry in her voice.

She then toured us through the rest of the household, finally leading us to the guests room where we would stay. I was quite spacious, especially if one comperes to the places we usually stay

It was not long before I became close to the Dark Elf, as we would spend plenty of time together, she told me stories of her Homeland before the disaster. That she lived in the town of Caldera when Red Mountain erupted and that she was older than I initially assumed as she was around her early 20's when she left Morrowind, She even mentioned how she met the elder man and his wife (who died 26 years ago) and how they assisted her by giving her a place to sleep and stay when she arrived with no money nor family. Then she asked to stay and work for them preferring housekeeping to the labur usually offered to her kind.

There was a minor rumour spreading through the city: Some Nords seemed to believe that Nephethy had been bewitching the man over the years and was the couse of his illness in an attempted to steal his wealth.

Somewhat two weeks later, my parents seemed to be making progress, as Rodgvir could now sit and occasionally walk, although his speech was somewhat incomprehensible. They knew something was unatural about this mans condition. But not wanting to worsen the rumors regarding the Dunmer they stayed silent and decided to solve this on their own.

The next few days was a serious of unfortunate events; the reason behind this mans illness seemed to have taken notice in my parents intervention, and so, took action: The elder man would start to scream and make odd sounds during the night. Further suspicions began to arise over the city. To the point in which one day three guards came into the building and investigated. When the guards entered to Rodgvir's room, his state suddenly worsened and began to yell and move in a very odd matter, almost as if he was attempting to break free from something, and then he seemed to regain composure, but I am sure his mind was absent for he began to tell lies to the guards, calling Nephethy a witch and accusing my parents for helping her achieve her wicked goal. Then a scandal began with my parents and the Dunmer attempting to demonstrate their innocence, as the guards attempted arrest, Nephethy seemingly panicked and tried to flee, before she could exit the room a guard quickly reacted by throwing an axe that cleaved into the Dark Elf's back, violently stumbling to the floor, she began to crawl with her hands but shortly after her body gave into the wound. It was not long until her last breaths were taken, her eyes in an eternal state of fear staring absently into nothing.

The three of us where in shock, almost paralyzed. If it wasn't for the guards forcing us to move, I don't know how long we would of stayed there, motionless.

And then came the trail: Rodgvir (who was carried in a chair) gave a statement that greatly incriminated my parents, and also altered the way Nephethy fleed and how she was killed. To which the guards agreed.

The Jarl then judged my parents guilty but I was freed, as non of the statements put me in any way as a suspect.

My parents where then accused of torture, attempt of murder and other evil doings and so the Jarl sentenced them to 20 years of hard labor. I believe as another form of punishment I was not allowed to say farewell nor was told where they would go.

Soon after I had no where to go and so I wondered the city asking for help; at first people where quite generous, but as rumors began to spread about me, life became very bitter.

Then came an important night in my life; it was frigid and clear, the moonlight shined over the city giving it's stone paths some kind of glow, but stridently it became darker and denser, and fog began to cover all visibility, haze dripped slowly making the cool breeze feel like frost: From the mist an obscure figure presented itself. Soon my freezing body was now filled with fear. As the entity came closer, I could see it was a man, he wore a long fur cloak that fell almost to the floor and his head hooded, his eyes glowing red, almost piercing me through.

As my body shivered from fright and cold he strached his hand towards me and in a deep and monotonous tone calmly spoke.

"Youngling the frost of night soon shall take you, and will be forgotten as most things in this world. I bring you the choice to change your fate, take my hand and you shall see the world in a new light, or stay and parish alone in the dark"

Even though Part of me was hesitant I soon took his hand, he pulled me to his side and coverd me with his cloak and we walked through the mist, breaking the silence once more;

"What do they call you" His words almost emotionless.

"Reila" I softly answered.

Nearly an year or two after: Movarth informed me he had found the location of my parents at the same time giving me heart breaking news. They where sent to serve at a mine, the mine one day caved in leaving few survivors, nonetheless one night he took me to the site, there was only a small memorial with few names, none belonging to my parents, my master informed that those must be the guards as the miners where prisoners. That night Mavarth helped me make a small monument near the site, and passionately accompanied me throughout my tears. It also came to my understanding that Rodgvir not long after I left fell ill and passed away.

I was shown a different way to view the world and though at first I had my objectios, I soon began to agree more and more.

Even though my tasks and training in the coven was severe; as time passed Marvath became similar to that of a father figure and the coven, my family more specifically, Alva; Piquine's right hand, like a mother.

Movarth was a master of unarmed combat and one-handed weapons.

Alva was more in the world of ilusión and mysticism, and so I gained knowledge of those schools from her.

I also learned of the other schools from my sisters, mainly conjuration and enchanting.

Thanks to my quick learning I was seen as a prodigy to Movarth, and so he had high hopes for the day when he would present me to Molag-Bal.

The years passed, and finally came the day of my initiation; A ritual of blood and dark magic, which my body would become undying, my soul would be given to Molag-Bal and I would become one of the mistresses of Morvarth.

The moldy wood of the forgotten farmhouse creaked with every blow of the night wind. A circle with daedric symbols spelling "Stone Fire", iluminated by red candles. In the center was a young Breton boy tied to a thick pole at the top of it was a iron horned-head symbolising Molag-Bal, the specimen was a child and of a prominent family of merchants.

The members of the sect where gathered around the circle, in black robes. I was a little closer to the circle, facing the boy. My eyes were painted with a thick reddish-black outline that got thinner as it slid down my cheeks into my neck, my crimson hair was set lose and I dressed in a plain white robe.Movarth and Alva stood behind me. And not knowing if it was a second or a life time, the ritual began.

Mavarth spoke:

_"Molag-Bal, here I present you a new servant and offer you a sacrifice so you can consume it's soul_ and grant power to your loyal worshippers.

R _ecognize that she shall serve you well, body and soul._

_Give her the power of night and mist_

_so she may stalk her pray, and bring forth your bidding in this world._

_Dark lord, we ask for your presence!"_

The cult mistresses raised their hands over their heads and began to chant in different tones.

Movarth then removed my robe, it slood down and pooled in the floor.

Two sisters walked towards me and began to paint symbols on my naked body.

Finally; Alva handed me a dark soul gem and an ancient daedric dagger, the blade was curvy and many symbols where incarved in it, the mere sight of it invoked sense of anxiety and despair.

As I grabbed hold of the blade it felt as if it entered into my head, seemingly as if endless voices pounded in my mind; whispering and screaming some even crying.

Slowly I stepped into the circle, the gagged whimpers of the boy became louder and his eyes widened.

I then casted a spell of soultrap on the child and the sisters of the coven began the oath:

_"We accept our new sister into our world of night and mist._

_With her the coven is complete. In your favor mortals shall cry at the thought of us._

_She shall be your mistress in the nights to come._

_In return,_

_Grant her true power, and the will to control it,_

_So that we may terrorize the heart and souls of the mortals._

_Molag-Bal._

_hear our plead."_

I then spoke my contract:

_"With unwavering passion I shall serve you lord of night and mist,_

_I shall treasure the gift you have bestowed upon me and with it bring forth your desires._

_My lord and my sisters, together we shall prevail._

_Molag-Bal accept this sacrifice and gift me with infernal power_ "

As my words fade into the night, I look into the boy's fearful eyes as the dagger swiftly cleaved the child's heart, his blood spilling over my painted body and his soul pouring into the soul gem and thus if successful the remnant of the soul will go to coldharbour instead of the soul cairn.

Movarth stepped into the circle and embraced me with a bite, and soon the rest of the Mistresses dropped their robes and walked into the bloody circle joining Mavarth's act; another desperate display to please the Daedric prince of domination and infecting me with Vampirism.

As well as covering my body with bitemarks, pain and fatigue.

I swore the oath and the ritual was complete, I truly became part of the coven, the youngest sister and after the next three days a new fledged vampire.

The evil deed had been done, the totem the circle and the boy where left in the shack. Maybe causing terror to unfortunate adventurers in future years.

If the ritual was a success, it is thought that Molag-Bal would present himself in someway, and if he judged his new servant worthy, would grant me with far greater power than that of any lesser Vampire.

But if I should fail to please the daedric prince, then forever shall my soul suffer in coldharbour.

If he fails to visit me, then the ritual did not call his attention, and I shall become a vampire with the abilities passed down by my sire.

Or at least that is what Movarth thought.


	3. Alteration

Alteration

The soft moonlight accompanies our march, reflecting a pale light from the snow. We where returning to our lair after the ritual.

The farmhouse, located in the Southwest of The Pale and Northeast of Whiterun. The hideout; in a cavern in the mountains just north from the ritual site.

Are march was quick, for we would walk and eventually vanish and reappear almost onehundred meters away. This feat was accomplished by Alva, Denara and Pemelde all skilled in mysticism. It was not long until we finally arrived to the entrance, the thredshold was quite small compared to the tall frozen stone walls that where around ten meters in hight, the passage was also quite narrow. The roof had holes revealing the nocturnal sky, letting snow fall into the cavern.

One then comes upon a Z shaped turn thad arrives at some kind of caged gorge separating the cavern with a pit (sometimes used as a sparing site). Looking towards the ceiling you can see a circular opening. Although sunlight never passes through it directly, every now and then some wild animal falls through the hole.

Uniting the two ends is a rudimentary wooden bridge of about 4 meters built by the Coven. Once on the other side we are met by a closed iron gate, guarded by two enthralled mortals: Both Nord men around their late twenties, but belonging to different masters:

Stink; a former fisherman, a thrall of Aneagla: His days of his career came to an abrupt end, when fishing in a frozen lake; he saw through the ice a dark-brown haired woman, as he looked closer he saw her face had deformed bat-like features. Before he could even back away, her yellow eyes opened piercing him with a wave of cold and soon his body was frozen for her enjoyment.

Itch; an Ex-hunter, enthralled by Alva. This mistress has always liked a more seductive approach to her victims, and she acted as a traveler in destress, wounded and stuck in one of his traps, after he helped her, she asked him to take her to his camp, as soon as his guard was down; his mind was lost in love and lust for her.

The structure seems to be an ancient Nordic temple, but now serves are coven as a home. The gate: closed by an enchantment Denara created, that will only open to the correct spell... Or activating the lever on the other side.

As you pass through the iron portal, you are greated by a poorly illuminated and large open space with a shape similar to a square of around 15x20 meters. With a high roof, a few pillars and some campsites surrounded by the bedrolls, there is also a straway to the right, that goes to the main area where the vampires dwell, and where most of their activities are held. The five thralls and I on the other hand reside in the lower level where the fires are.

Across the room on the other of the gate lies yet another door this one leads to small platform and a starway that goes down to to a cave area. but since this area is small and quite useless it is used as a storage site.

Up the stairs; one can find several wooden tables and stone slabs used for different purposes most of them magical, as well as a couple of bookcases. The slab used for enchanting is decorated with several jewels and soul gems, another has alchemical set. The one in the center which is empty is used for the most foul uses, either be feeding, the practice of necromancy or for sacrificial means.

As we all settled back home, we began to focus on our tasks, most where sent out on missions. In three days I would be a full fledged sister of the coven; and then we would feast in celebration. For now we wait anxiously, hopping for Molag-Bal to grant us their presence.

It was nearly daytime and so none of the vampires left for outdoor activities. I was tired but on Movarth's command I was not to rest until night. and so I wondered out of our lair.

Far in the mountains a dim yellow light glows behind them, the clouds above have a mixture of red and orange, and through the sky; a transition of pale blue to blackish blue. As the last stars dispell, the mighty yellow orbe rises. The glowing snow illuminates the endless trees, and I know that this may be the last I enjoy such a sight, for the sun will become my enemy. I inhale the cool morning breeze, the air perfumed by the countless pines. I venture through this riddled land, enjoying the sound I make with the snow every step I take.

These are the times I wonder how life brought me here. A child born from good but was raised for what is seen evil. I become conflicted with who I am and what I have become... What I will become. I know it is too late, my path was set, and I took the first steps long ago. I know not what lies ahead, but I can only see it that the way is only darkening. My body is filling with corruption, and soon I will no longer be alive, nor dead. I meditate on why Movarth has chosen me for his life time project, for me to be the source of our coven attempts contact our daedric lords. I question and question but with no answer. I am lost in what I know. For sixteen years have I been seasoned for this moment, I am not sure what that is exactly: but I trust in my kin, and I believe once they become by blood-kin, all shall be answered. For one may not understand what they cannot feel.

My venture through the snowy forest had achieved the passage of time, and once I regained notion over my body, I realized the toll it brought. I was exhausted, my legs trembled in pain, it was not long before they gave in, I slowly walked to a tree and sat. I rested there for sometime until I began to feel a chill for the lack of activity. It would seem that the sun and my think fur clothes where not enough, my stomach was also craving for some attention, so I forced myself back.

It was almost dusk and my sisters where preparing to leave the den. I sat on a wooden chair over a firepit, my fingers surrounded the dark gem, it contained much power, but at the cost of extreme suffering in this world and endless agony in the next. The poor boy would never know rest, we took that from him. "Is it worth it?" I wondered. Denara came to me and pointed at the black soul gem and said.

"That soul, is now a part of you, when the time comes, and you find an item be it weapon, robe or ring, and find in a reflection of yourself. Then you will know, and then you'll have a great tool. Of course only if I'm around to help enchant it, or Molag-Bal doesn't eat you, haha!"

Her soft yet distorted voice was always unsettling. Her long gray hair on the other hand was stunning. She had a pale blue skin and fierce red eyes, with a yellowish glow. an unwanted descendent from the Aundae bloodline. Since her mortal life as a Telvanni house member sometime in the second century 3E, she is an enthusiastic enchantress and mysticist. Running from Morrowind when in the fourth century 3E, a mysterious hunter began to target lesser vampires.

"Don't worry, I'm sure Molag-Bal will be more than pleased" A pused for a moment. "Do you think it was worth it?" To which Denara's response was simply to look away and murmur "N'wah". It was stupid to ask.

I then curdled up in one of the bedrolls; the pain and tiredness I felt was acute. I rolled, twisted and twirled, but to no avail. Time passed so slowly it seemed I was bond to an eternity trying to reach slumber but to no success. As soon as my mind was dozing off, I was striked by pain that overwhelmed the entirety of my body; I felt as if I was being pierced, burned and frozen all at the same time.

And so came dawn, and the Vampires returned from their nocturnal activities sending now the thralls on daytime errands.

Although My body was still overwhelmed with pain and fatigue; I forcefully managed to get up but did not have the will nor the strength to do anything else than aimlessly wonder the Temple, my kin pay no mind since they are all entertained as they anxiously awaited dusk.

Gilda -probably one of the greatest poison brewers one may encounter-; Clearly was at the alchemy table as the head aching stench that covered every corner of the temple. Before Movarth she was a Breton woman and fugitive from the fourth century 3E for a committing mass murder after poisoning a mine in Highrock, causing most of the workers to die or be left in a critical state, she then fled to Cyrodiil in fear of being cought and executed. In her defense she simply states that "I simply wanted to test the full potential of my brew".

I could see Volrina sharpening her arrows, the Imperial once was an archer and adventurer of sorts, taking on odd quests and jobs. But eventually met Movarth who convinced her to join him. I do not know much of her for she is quite silent mainly keeping to herself.

As nightfall approached once more, the impatient vampires hurried out of the lair, leaving me and the more "domestic" sisters home.

Volrina, Indra and Aneagla, where sent out on a hunt (term used for the search and capture of mortals ). Alva and Movarth also left I do not know with what objective. Glida went out to searh for ingredients. Maurie (a Breton from and a Thrafey Vampire) and Kenet (a Redguard from the Montalion bloodline) where sent out to scout. Denara, Nathala and Minphy stayed in the lair. One could say it was a busy night.

Once more I attempted to fight my restlessness. Although I managed to reach a state of sleep the results were other but fruitful.

I wasn't long until my fatigue cought up with me. As my mind slowly dozed out of insomnia it was overwhelmed by the world of dreams:

A calm breeze brushes through my red hair. Before me lies a sightly meadow, blooming with flowers. The wonderful smells explode through the air, rays of sun cover the colorful field. I then feel an itch in my hands, as I look at them they are steaming and turning black. I can no longer smell those beautiful scents. I look at the sky, I am blinded.

As I manage to reopen my eyes a marsh covered in fires and rotting corpses replaced the medow. The sky becomes purple and a dense air of rot and moist fills the atmosphere. Although the sky is covered in flames, it gets colder and colder until my body feels undone. I attempted to scream, but no sounds come through me, as I have no mouth!

I wake up, forcing a younger body of me (stiff from spending another night in the cold), to get up and walk out the cobblestone alley towards the main entrance of the city and stand near a firepit. "Why is always so cold in Windhelm?" I quietly murmur to myself. I stretch my shivering hands to every passing person. I hear men yelling and laughing in the nearby tavern, a dog begins to bark and soon a chorus of barks and howls begins. A guard in the gate is discussing with a merchant, a man with a mediocre clothes spits at me and a horn blows indicating the Jarl will hold a speach.

Suddenly the city becomes quite, as if no soul was left in it nor near, the sound of the horn slowly fading away, it rapidly shifts dark almost as if something put out the sun like a candle, and soon from the sky descended a thick fog. The silence is then broken by a deep unworldly resonance and by uneven yet steady footsteps splashing against the wet floor: From the dark a thin abysmal being appears; slowly walking towards me, it's body crooked and foul often spasms in random ways, my body is petrified; forced to watch this demonic fiend as it parades towards me (the deep noise slowly becoming louder is almost asphyxiating) as the contorted figure comes close, it halts and violently lashes it's hand in front of me with a loud crack sound. As I look up at it I see it's glowing yellow eyes made of fire and his head of stone, resembling an eerie and bizzare swawn of a man and a goat with long curved horns bending towards it's neck. As it watches me it let's out some kind of deep distorted laughter as my eyes slowly closed and I am consumed with dread.

I come back to a body covered in sweat fear and pain, I attempted to get up, but my legs and arms have no strength, only making me agonize at the attempt.

Indra, a woman with several small scars in her face (from before her transformation) and short blode hair, was leaning in one of the pillars cleaning her longsword. seeing me struggle made her change activities she cames up to me and whispered:

"What's wrong? Can't get up? What use are you if you are so weak and pitiful? I can't even imagine Molag-Bal would give you anything other than pain and misery."

She slowly got up as she chuckled.

Indra; (one could call here the brute of the group or the brat if you ask me); was a bulky Nord from Skyrim in the fifth century 3E and a member of the companions, before being kicked out that is. After, for some reason my master introduced her to the coven. She often likes to burden herself with heavy armor and a wields a double-handed claymore although one can doubt her ability, what highlights more is the brutally she may display in the way she deals with victims; often mutilating them even after they are defeated, placing their heads on spikes if as she puts it "They had a nice face". She sometimes slices their guts out and patiently watches them take their last painful breaths.

One could easily note that the relation between us is somewhat unpleasant, it began since Movarth took me in: She was the youngest and had already been in the coven for more than 40 years. Her devotion to Movarth was very distinct, and always wanted to be noticed by him.

I didn't have the strength to react to her aggression, barely managing to let out an incomprehensible murmur. All I could do was endure the pain watching my kin go on about their activities.

Denara as usual over the enchanting table, Indra was discussing with Pemelde about what I don't know nor care. One could see flashes of white and red lights coming from the pit in the entrance most likely Nathala and Aneagla where competing on whos magic was better. Maybe the most distinguishable thing was an odd and misplaced blob of mist near the east side of the temple; most likely the wood elf Minphy, Not only was she the only bosmer, she was also a vampire from the Keerilth bloodline.

Movarth then took notice in my unusual state commanding Itch to attend to my mortal needs. It did not seem to worry him, on the contrary it appeared that it gave him some hint of hope.

Soon night fell upon Skyrim, it was also the night, my night. My master commanded my sister's to place me in the middle stone slab, where I was disrobed and tied. I small fetish of Molag-Bal was placed over me, and so began a chant. Gilda poured a dense reddish black liquid on me, it's smell was awful and overwhelmingly strong, it was not long before it made me lose consciousness.

It was pitch black I saw nothing I heard nothing I felt nothing I was nothing. I am dead. I did not lie I did not stand nor did I sit, I simply was not there, anywhere.

Impossible to know wether it lasted for a second an eternity or did not last at all, but finally ended; Now a bright purple light shined all over, Gildas brew filled the air, my feet stood over a puddle of cold water, and a dark sinister voice spoke.

"Your Master was bold, the corruption in your blood is too much to bare for any mortal.

My puny uncertain follower, I lend you the will to hold such power, do not make me regret my investment. Claim many and do not die soon.

The might of those who have made you, power of many lands and centuries now at your disposal. Use it well.

My daughter."

My eyes opened, I felt great agony, it felt like my bones where being plucked out of my body, my teeth pulled out, my eyes burnt, the strains on me barely allowed me to squirm, but I was still able to scream out my pain.

But soon all was over, the pain banished as I took pointless breathes; there was no satisfaction left it them. My body felt empty, there was nothing, no pain no joy. I had traded life for power and the change was noticeable...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)
> 
> Anyways I have a buch of ideas in this little head of mine. So I'll see you next one. I hope my writing and redaction abilities will get better in future chapters.
> 
> Kind Regards.
> 
> Eilif.
> 
> Ps: I have a hard time introducing characters :P

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for reading! This is a story I've been wanting to write for a while now and also the first I will write/publish, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Any helpful criticism is more than welcome!
> 
> Ps: The protagonist is Non-Dragonborn, that said for the most part I will stay canon to the events and lore friendly to The Elder Scrolls.
> 
> I'm also working on future chapters so stay tuned!
> 
> Kind Regards
> 
> Eilif


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